


Let Me Heal You

by paneverlands



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Begging, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Mickey, Ian being a smart ass, Ian makes Mickey feel better with dick, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, possibly ooc Mickey being a whiny bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paneverlands/pseuds/paneverlands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey stubs his toe and Ian figures the best way to make him feel better is to take his mind off of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Heal You

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write a short, fluffy thing about Mickey hurting himself with Ian making him feel better and this happened. I need to cleanse my mind if I can't write something cute without people fucking. Oops :P I've never posted anything sex-related that I've written so I'm kinda nervous. But I hope you enjoy(:

Ian isn't sure when he ended up falling asleep—he's guessing sometime after his fifth beer and the end credits of some old western Mickey had left on for background noise—or why he woke up so suddenly. He blinks to get some of the sleep out of his eyes when he hears an angry mumble that sounds something like 'stupid fucker' and the padding of feet down the stairs before Mickey rounds the bottom of the steps, limping his way over to the couch. Ian pushes himself up and watches Mickey flop down, trying to hide his amusement while listening to his boyfriend grumbling under his breath. He almost loses it when Mickey huffs and crosses his arms, burrowing himself further into the cushions with a pout that Ian knows Mick will never admit to and more than likely take a swing at him if he told him how adorable he thought he was being.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ian asks, voice still thick with sleep.

Mickey grunts and shrugs, "nothing man."

"You look like you're about ten seconds away from wanting to shoot someone, Mick."

Mickey groans, hoping that Ian would leave it be, but after knowing each other for five years and being fully committed for two of them, he should know that Ian likes to make seemingly innocent comments that usually gets him the truth. If he asks how your day was and you tell him that it was fine, he'll respond with something along the lines of 'is that so?' with his bright green eyes and quirk of his lips until you spill that your boss had made a pass at you or some dumb-fuck customer held you up with a question that you answered twenty times over until they demanded to see the manager, who ends up telling them the exact same thing you had not even five minutes ago.

Ian knows exactly what he's doing as he widens his eyes and tilts his head slightly to the right, watching quietly as Mickey starts squirming under his gaze. He lifts his hand to his mouth, gnawing on the side of his index finger—a nervous habit he can't seem to quit—before scrunching up his face and muttering what happened under his breath.

Even sitting as close as they are, Ian has no idea what Mick said. He refocuses his attention to the tv—his way of pretending that what was said doesn't matter either way; if only to rile Mickey up more so he'll give Ian a straight answer—with a noncommittal hum, "what was that?"

"Fuck, really? I stubbed my fucking toe on that piece of shit desk you had to put in the hallway outside the bathroom. Happy now, douchebag?" Mickey's eyebrows steadily rose up his forehead the longer he ranted, his thumb swiping across his bottom lip once he was finished, and Ian doesn't know how much control he has left before he cracks.

He coughs in a vain attempt to conceal his snort after he hears what happened and has to turn away when a smile he can't stop begins to cross his face. Mickey is so going to hate him, but he can't let this one go.

"Wait, so big boy Mickey Milkovich, who can hold his own in a fight with his brothers and terrorize the south side with the best of 'em, can't handle a bump to his toe?"

Mickey kicks sideways, catching Ian across the shin--who hisses at the impact--and shouts, "fuck off! Shit hurts."

The laugh Ian lets out is the only noise in the otherwise quiet house before a devious grin passes over Ian's features as he twists towards an unsuspecting Mickey. Using a hand to shove Mickey flat onto the couch, he slinks up the other boy's body, brushing his fingertips across all the spots that he knows gets Mickey going. Running them down the inside of his arm, he uses the shock he caused to his advantage and brings both of Mickey's arms above his head. Grabbing both in one hand, he presses the palm of his free hand back to his boyfriend's chest to still his squirming. He bends down to trace his lips down Mickey's jaw, effectively cutting off his protests. He hears Mickey's sharp intake of breath and feels the groan against his lips when he nips right below his ear.

"The fuck, Ian?"

He has to close his eyes when he hears how breathy Mickey is. "Forgetting the pain, yet, Mick?"

Mickey laughs when he figures out Ian's excuse for going from sleepy to horny in 0.5 seconds, moaning out when Ian lazily brushes their hips together. "Nah, fuck, still hurts."

Ian subsequently begins grinding down on Mickey with little figure 8 movements, tutting, "gonna have to fix that then," against his lips.

Mickey spreads his legs to give Ian more room and groans in agreement. He gets a hand free of Ian's hold and rests it on Ian's neck, fingers running through the soft, short hairs to keep their lips together. He locks his foot around the back of Ian's calf, pushing up to grind against him harder.

Ian pulls back to watch how responsive Mickey is as he drags his fingers down his chest, pupils dilating when Mickey keens and arches into his touch after thumbing across his hardening nipples.

Mickey starts wiggling and Ian knows if he doesn't start taking off clothes, Mickey will start complaining; he's never been one to like dragging things out. Sitting up so he's straddling Mickey's thighs and pushing his hips down to keep him still, Ian slips off his shirt, smirking when Mickey zones onto his revealed abs and bites his lip. Ian smacks his hands away when he grasps the end of his own shirt, pinning them to the couch while scooting further down Mickey's legs.

Ian was a little shocked to hear how raspy his voice had gotten as he looked up at Mickey through his lashes and whispered, "never said you could touch, Mick."

Mickey's hips jerked when Ian's hot breath ghosted across his clothed cock. Ian smirked before running his tongue along Mickey's hardening length through his jeans, drinking in the sounds he knows are only for him. Soothing his hands under Mickey's shirt and up his sides, he nips and licks across the exposed skin, helping him out of the material when it's pushed up to gather beneath his arms.

He presses a chaste kiss to Mickey's lips that are bitten red from attempting to quiet his pleasured sounds. Ian runs his tongue across the other boy's open mouth, dipping in for a quick swipe over his teeth and a taste of something that's entirely Mickey. Fingertips dig in tight to his biceps and a gravely moan fills his ears when he drags his tongue down chin and neck to bite hard just below Mickey's left collarbone, soothing it over with tongue and soft, open-mouthed kisses.

Satisfied with knowing he definitely left a sizable hickey, he kisses down Mickey's chest and latches onto his right nipple. He moans when Mickey curses and wraps a hand around the back of his head, trapping him against his chest. He nips and sucks, swirling the tip of his tongue around the hard nub and laughs when Mickey whines and his fingers twitch around his shoulder. Ian kisses his way to Mickey's other nipple and gives it the same treatment, basking in the responsive noises and jerks Mickey's body involuntarily gives.

"C'mon, Gallagher. Hurry the fuck up."

Ian leans back and bites his lip, "let me take my time with you tonight, Mickey. I just want to make you feel good."

And, of course, with his bright, doe eyes, Mickey has no chance in hell of saying no. So, he huffs and gives a short nod and Ian's resulting smile hits him hard. If he didn't know before, then Mickey knows now, that he's well and truly fucked for anyone who isn't this red haired, green eyed boy in front of him.

Ian leans back down, palms dragging down Mickey's sides as he kisses down his stomach, tongue dipping into his navel. He feels Mickey clench his stomach when he pops open the button of his jeans, knuckles skimming across his dick as he pulls down the zipper. He grunts when Ian dips his fingers just under the elastic of his boxers, only nudging his leaking tip before pulling away.

"Christ," he chokes out. "You're killing me here, Ian."

Ian laughs but says nothing, just hooks his fingers under the material near Mickey's hips and pulls. Mickey lifts up and sighs when Ian gets both his jeans and boxers down just enough to reveal Mickey's cock. He licks up the crease of both of Mickey's thighs before deciding he's been tortured enough and sucks one of his balls into his mouth, grasping Mickey in a loose grip and pumping him with a maddeningly slow pace. Mickey shouts in surprise and his hands dig into the cushions in need of something to hold on to. He groans when Ian replaces his hand with his mouth and laves up his cock, kitten licking to taste the pre-come gathering at the tip before wrapping his lips tightly around it, sucking lightly on just the head.

Ian rests his hands on Mickey's hips as he bobs his head, working his way down and light skimming his teeth along the velvety flesh. Mickey gasps and his hands fly to grasp at Ian; one cradles his neck while the other grips tight to his hair. Ian pulls off to take a breath, wrapping his fingers around Mickey's length before taking him back into his mouth. Ian can feel Mickey trembling, trying hard not to pump up his hips as he hits Ian's throat. Ian breathes deep through his nose and takes him in further, swallowing around the head, humming with his nose buried in the wiry hairs at the base. He moans at the weight of Mickey on his tongue and the vibrations shock through his boyfriend from head to toe. Mickey keens and flexes his toes, tapping his fingers against Ian's neck in warning and cries out when he pulls off, gripping his base to stave of his impending orgasm.

"What the fuck!"

"I'm not done with you quite yet, Mick." Ian replies. "I'll be right back."

Mickey stares incredulously at his boyfriend as he takes off up the stairs before he scoffs and plops back onto the couch, attempting to get his breathing under control while waiting for Ian to get his ass back downstairs. He only has to wait a couple minutes when the redhead comes practically flying back to the couch, fully naked now. Ian crawls back over Mickey and they both hiss when their dicks rub together. Ian drapes his body over Mickey's, touching from chest to toes and locks their lips together. Ian groans when Mickey latches onto his bottom lip, biting and pulling before tracing his lips and teeth with his tongue. Ian opens his mouth and Mickey dives in. He runs his tongue across the roof of his mouth, pulling a whine from Ian that makes Mickey do it again, just to hear what other noises he can get Ian to make.

Ian pulls away and kisses down to place another mark on Mickey's flushed skin. He tenses when Ian pops the cap to the lube before melting in anticipation and he tilts his neck to give Ian more access. He watches as Ian squeezes some out across his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up. Ian moves his fingers to Mickey's pert ass and runs his slicked up fingers between his cheeks, reveling in the way Mickey sighs and shifts his hips back as he presses lightly at his hole before pulling away.

Mickey makes a noise of protest and glares up at his boyfriend. "Ian, shit, stop fuc-"

With Mickey exactly where he wants—wound up and ready—Ian cuts him off when he slips the tip of his middle finger in and smirks when protests become pleas. He works his finger in a few times before adding his ring finger, scissoring them to stretch Mickey open and curls them to find that spot that makes Mickey fall apart. He knows he found it when Mickey throws his head back and arches, heels digging into the back of Ian's legs and clenches tight around his fingers.

"Ah, shit. Again," he gasps. "Please."

That's when Ian knows he can get Mickey to do anything he wants; the moment he starts begging.

"Please what, Mick?"

"You know--fuck--you know what!"

Ian adds a third finger and purposely misses his prostate. He loves to see Mickey flustered.

"Dammit, Ian. I need--shit."

Ian nips at his ear before chuckling, "you need it, huh? Need me?"

Mickey lets out a garbled noise of agreement and Ian assents. He changes the angle, finding Mickey's sweet spot quickly and drives his fingers into his loosened, wet hole; watching as Mickey's body winds tight and muscles start to seize before pulling his fingers free with a crude 'pop.'

Mickey looks about ready to kill someone.

He's had enough of Ian's games and he reaches up to drag him close so he can growl out, "quit fucking around and get in me!"

Ian rolls his eyes but grins; he's become quite fond to watch Mickey get disgruntled. Angry Mickey quit being scary a long time ago.

He leans over and snatches up a condom and tears it open, rolling it down his dick. He pops open the lube again before drizzling it over his length, breathing sharply as he pumps himself to spread the lube. He's been unbearably hard since he went upstairs. He nudges Mickey's legs apart and brings one up to rest on his shoulder, the other Mickey wraps around his waist. Ian scoots forward on his knees, using his lube-slicked hand to guide himself. He runs his cock up Mickey's crack, catching on his rim and brushing against his balls, both moaning at the contact. He teases at Mickey's entrance before he finally pushes in, a broken gasp punched out of him when the tight heat of Mickey's inner walls surround him. Feeling the heel that rests in the dip of his lower back dig in, urging him to go deeper, Ian wraps his hands around the back of Mickey's legs and pushes them down towards his chest, opening him up more and making it easier to sink in. He halts when his balls rest against Mickey's ass, letting him adjust to the intrusion.

Mickey reaches up and wraps his hands around Ian's neck to pull him down, "I don't need to be babied." He clenches to make his point and Ian's hips jerk. "Fuck me, Ian."

Ian can't say no to that and kneels back up while using Mickey's thighs as leverage, pulls back to the tip and slams back in. Mickey huffs out and pushes his hips back, matching Ian's thrusts with his own. Ian leans down, dropping his boyfriend's legs and bracketing Mickey's face with his forearms. He kisses Mickey before resting their foreheads together and just breathing each other in. Ian angles his hips to find Mickey's prostate and once he does, thrusts his cock fully inside the scorching heat, grinding into it relentlessly just to see Mickey quake with want and need.

He buries his head in Mickey's neck, tasting the saltiness of the sweat that's covering his skin and the sweetness that distinctly Mickey. He wraps an arm underneath his boyfriend's back and around his shoulder; runs his other hand to one of Mickey's and intertwines their fingers.

" God, you feel so good. Always so tight."

Mickey grips his fingers around Ian's in response and the heels of his feet dig harder into the back of Ian's legs; his toes curling in pleasure. He reaches down with his other hand and wraps his fingers tight around his aching dick. He jerks himself to the rhythm of Ian's thrusts; hips working up into his grip and back onto Ian. He's so close and after being denied of an orgasm twice already, he needs to come, but he can't seem to get there. Ian hears him whine and runs a soothing hand down his side.

Adding his hand on top of Mickey's and creating a tighter hold, he pumps both his hips and their hands faster, setting an unforgiving pace and driving into his sweet spot. He can feel Mickey being to coil up again, gasping and moaning a mess of words.

"Oh, shit. Yes. C'mon, Ian! Fuckfuckfuck."

"You gonna come for me? Come, baby."

Mickey snaps, like a rubber band being stretched too thin. He cries out as tremors rack his body when he comes, thick ropes of white covering his stomach and chest. He tightens around Ian, causing his hips to stutter through a few more thrusts before coming, buried deep inside Mickey. Ian bites down on his shoulder and groans, riding out his orgasm before his arms give out and he slumps down, pinning his boyfriend to the couch.

Mickey still sounds like he's working to breathe normally a couple minutes later when he lets out a laugh and says, "Damn, Gallagher. I should smack my toes on something more often."

Ian laughs and pulls out. They both wince with sensitivity and sit up. Ian pulls off the condom and ties it, padding into the kitchen to throw it away. He smiles when he walks back to the couch; Mickey has his head resting onto the back and his eyes are closed, the light from the muted tv catching his still slightly flushed skin just right making the hickeys littering his body more pronounced.

He leans over his boyfriend and catches his mouth in a light kiss. The corners of Mickey's lips lift up and Ian whispers, "you're beautiful."

Mickey snorts and shoves him off, turning his head to hide his blush and mumbles under his breath. Ian just rolls his eyes and drags him to the shower.

And if, while under the warmth of the water and in the protective embrace of their boyfriend's arms, Mickey whispers, "I love you." And Ian whispers, "I love you, too." Then that's theirs to keep and theirs alone.


End file.
